


you are the center of my universe

by tukhamyeon



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, M/M, Smut, aphrodite's son!junhui, hades' son!wonwoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:08:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tukhamyeon/pseuds/tukhamyeon
Summary: Clearly, Wonwoo and Junhui are immensely different.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	you are the center of my universe

**Author's Note:**

> hey! this is my very 1st wonhui fic, and i must say i really love the dynamic between the two. this has been in my draft since the release of fallin' flower mv! referenced from wonhui scene in the mv, and I borrowed greek myths setting as the background story, so please excuse the inaccuracy ;;
> 
> it's short, i hope you enjoy reading this!
> 
> (p.s. thank you terry for beta-reading this! c:)

Wonwoo is darkness.

He was born at the ends of the earth, where blankets of starless nights are spread all around, where you would not find any trace of light even only for the slightest bit. His world is what people describe as the place full of distress, of dread. Happiness and festivity are foreign to him; sorrow and loneliness are his only friends.

Wonwoo is fear.

As the heir of the God of the underworld, he is utterly feared. No one dares to know him, let alone approach nor touch him. His sharp and cold gaze could have one kneel before him for forgiveness; his voice would send chills down anyone’s spines out of terror. No one would have wished to be caressed by the cold fingertips of his. No one has ever wished for him to exist.

Wonwoo is nothing _Junhui is_.

Junhui is light.

He was born where the most beautiful rays of sunshine are made, where flowers bloom so beautifully. His world knows nothing about misery; it is only filled with joy and laughter. The saddest thing his people could experience is a smile. Contentment is there all day, all year long. Junhui’s friends are angels and fairies.

Junhui is love.

Junhui is blessed to be born as the heir of the goddess of love. Everyone cherishes and adores him for he only brings fortune and delight. People yearn for his touch, for his love, _for him_. His existence is a blessing for his people and for nature. His smile erases his people’s worry, and his warmth gives comfort to every existing being near him.

Clearly, Wonwoo and Junhui are immensely different.

They first met during the party Junhui’s mother held. Hades and his heirs were invited to join, but Wonwoo refused because _who would want to see him there?_

His father had insisted, pressing the fact that people have to be constantly reminded of _their_ existence. The ones who people fear and avoid. _The Underworld._ And Wonwoo’s stomach churned, yet he forced a tight smile and a small nod. _It is my fate, and I need to accept it. Whether I like it or not._

As he expected, no one wished for their appearance at the festive party. 

Once they made their entrance—black smokes and coldness filling up the lively garden of love, roars of thunder and wind overpowering the sounds of bird chirpings and fairies singing—everyone turned their back and started whispering, _they are here._

Wonwoo had wished the ground would swallow him at that moment.

His ears burnt, from anger or embarrassment, he wasn’t sure himself.

He clenched his fists, hidden underneath his black velvet cloak, _was Aphrodite’s intention of inviting Hades and his children here to shame them publicly like this?_

His father and younger brother did not seem to mind with all the whispers and stares they were getting though, or did they choose to be unfazed by it? 

The more steps they took, the more Wonwoo felt self-conscious. 

He could feel his knees growing weak, and he was _scared_ , which he should not be because _he is Hades’ firstborn_ _—_

“Sir Hades, the god of the Underworld.”

They stopped.

A boy around his age bowed to his father, and when he looked up, a pair of warm brown eyes met him. The boy’s bright smile nearly took his breath away. _Beautiful_ , he thought. He had never thought that one day he could finally find someone who would fit the word so foreign to him. The boy averted his gaze to his father, who was talking to him, to his dismay. 

Too drawn in his thoughts, Wonwoo did not register the sudden shift of attention to him, “Wonwoo,” his father called. He shook his head, blinking before clearing his throat, “Yes, father?”

“This is Junhui, Aphrodite’s first born.”

The said boy, again, smiled at him, and Wonwoo’s heart somersaulted against his ribcage.

_Aphrodite’s son_ , of course he is blessed with such stunning, perfect beauty.

“I’m Junhui, thank you for gracing this party with your presence,” he bowed, and instinctively, Wonwoo took a step back, “Wonwoo, Hades’ firstborn.”

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Wonwoo.”

  
  


***

No one would have thought that the meeting was only the beginning of everything.

Never once have Wonwoo imagined that their paths would cross again after their first meeting.

“Wonwoo.”

Yet, there he is. Right on top of him. All glorious and charming that it makes Wonwoo’s chest hurt with _longing_.

“ _Wonwoo_.”

A small moan escaped from his parted lips at the snap of Junhui’s hips, fingers clutching at the soft silk bed sheet underneath him.

A gentle hand finds its way to Wonwoo’s hair, tucking it behind his ear, “Are you okay?”

Junhui’s eyebrows are drawn together in worry, and Wonwoo _hates_ how he still looks so composed and perfect, while he must have been the opposite, completely wrecked beneath the other male.

Junhui stops moving when Wonwoo does not answer, pressing soft kisses on his forehead down to his nose, cheeks, and the corner of his lips, “My dear?”

Wonwoo wants to cry.

In the past, he kept having these scary notions that he would never experience this, _love._ That he is not worthy of being loved. The people around him have made him believe that his life purpose is only to be the heir of the Underworld, to inherit his father’s reign and protect the glory of the Underworld. Love is almost non-existent in his dictionary.

When he grew up, he had to bury his desire of affection and attachment at the deepest pit of his heart. No one would dare to lay their hands on him, let alone hold him. And Wonwoo thought he did a great job.

It all changed when he met Junhui.

Junhui taught him how it feels to be loved, and to love. His soft voice never gets tired of reminding him that he is worthy of Junhui’s love, and the endearments Junhui gives him will never be enough to describe how perfect Wonwoo is. His warm fingertips would always find his cold one, caressing, teasing, and loving every inch of Wonwoo’s skin.

He does not realize that his tears have managed to fall free from his eyes until Junhui kisses the tear streaks on his cheeks and whispers, “You are thinking again.”

Wonwoo swallows the lump on his throat, unclenching the sheets under him and reaching a hand up to touch Junhui’s face, “‘m sorry.”

Junhui only sighs, but he smiles regardless, gently holding Wonwoo’s thin wrist and kissing his palm, “Do you mind sharing it with me?”

Wonwoo sucks on a heavy breath when Junhui leaves kittenish licks on his fingers, which he hates _so much_. They are constantly cold, unlike Junhui’s. They are thin and bony, and they shake _too much, too often_. Yet Junhui never minds them; he never forgets to hold and intertwine their fingers tightly whenever they sneak out to see Junhui’s mother’s favorite secret garden. He always kisses the calloused skin which Wonwoo always gets whenever he locks himself up in his father’s library to write poems. _I hate them_ , Wonwoo once confessed to him, but Junhui would not buy it. _They are beautiful, Wonwoo_ , Junhui had rebutted, and that day, they spent hours under Junhui’s favorite soft duvet, just holding hands until both of them eventually fell asleep.

Without thinking, Wonwoo blurted out, “I love you.”

Junhui’s gaze softens upon hearing the confession, the smile never leaving his lips, “Dearest.”

He leans down to capture Wonwoo’s lips in a tender kiss, hands running down his hips to his spread thighs, and Wonwoo’s head spins. Voluntarily, he circles his arms around Junhui’s neck, moaning when Junhui’s tongue drags against his lips, “Junhui-”

And Junhui thrusts in hard, hands gripping Wonwoo’s hips tight, _possessive_. Breaking the kiss, Junhui’s lips travel down to his neck, nibbling and biting more bruises which will stay for weeks on Wonwoo’s pale skin. 

Junhui loves leaving marks on him. Wonwoo’s skin is like a bare white canvas, and Junhui is the artist. Wonwoo likes it, likes it when he sees the blooming purple marks across his skin at his reflection on the water surface. They are a persistent reminder of _this_ , their passionate love making. 

Wonwoo chokes a sob, fingernails pressing red, angry crescents on Junhui’s soft tanned skin, “J-Jun-!”

The male above him pulls back, hips relentlessly moving. Junhui’s lips find his again, nothing is gentle about the kiss this time. It’s demanding and dominant, _claiming_. Wonwoo is sure they might have been bruised by now. Junhui’s pace is getting faster and harsher, with every hard thrust brutally hitting right at his prostate. He grunts against Wonwoo’s parted lips, “ _I love you_ ,” thrust, “ _no one but you_ ,” thrust, “ _you are mine_ ,” thrust, “ _mine only_.”

The climax is intense; he clings to Junhui, thighs quivering and toes curling. Junhui is there, holding him with his hard gaze drinking up the erotic sight unfolding before him and whispering, “You’re doing so great, love. So great for me. So beautiful.”

Wonwoo shakes so much that Junhui has to entwine their fingers tightly. Junhui groans as he chases his own orgasm, pace not faltering. Wonwoo looks up at Junhui through his post-orgasmic state, making silent pleas that he wants _everything that is Junhui_ , hips meeting the other’s hard thrusts, “J-Junhui, p-please please-”

Junhui swallows his pleas with a deep kiss, breathing harshly against his lips, “I’ve got you.”

With one last thrust, Junhui comes in a low grunt, filling Wonwoo up, and Wonwoo lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

Junhui collapses on top of him, and Wonwoo’s arms immediately wrap around his bare torso, feeling the warm skin against his fingertips. He closes his eyes as he revels in the sound of their heavy breathings, nosing at Junhui’s brown locks.

Wonwoo loves him.

Wonwoo _loves_ Junhui.

And Junhui loves him too.

**Author's Note:**

> aa i hope you enjoyed it! ><
> 
> pls love me and hit me up on twt or curiouscat: @shimkunghan c:
> 
> thank you for reading!
> 
> edit: probably will write a sequel from junhui's pov c:


End file.
